


Flare out like Shook Foil

by Saxifactumterritum



Series: you have to have SOMETHING to keep breathing [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saxifactumterritum/pseuds/Saxifactumterritum
Summary: Rodney has a preoccupation with fish. He contemplates the ocean life of Lantea as he navigates the absolute crap that Pegasus throws at them.





	Flare out like Shook Foil

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Rodney talks about his shitty family, his kinda sucky childhood. canon type of bad happenings. Panic attacks.
> 
> oh, and the title's from a Gerard Manly Hopkin's poem, so I guess credit to him but he thought that all creativity stemmed from the act of ejaculation, the 'ultimate source of all creation', and people without dicks can't write for shite, so also you know, fuck him. He made lovely poems.

“I used to take Jeannie to Ripley’s Aquarium every weekend, she wanted to see the octopus and turtles. She’d stand for hours, just those two displays. Used to take along books about them and tell anyone who’d listen screeds and screeds, facts and stories and ‘did you know’s. I didn’t care much about any of that, but it was calming to watch the fish, it was my thinking time. I had a lot of epiphanies in front of those fish.”

Rodney stops talking. He’s sat with his back against the wall, in one of Atlantis’s many unused hallways. Colonel Sheppard’s sat beside him. They’ve been back from failing to rescue Ford (again) for nearly a week, but Rodney still feels a hollowness inside him, right through his bones. Sheppard’s been flying kites again, Rodney knows. Right now they’re sitting out one of Rodney’s panic attacks. There’s no mission, no crises, and no research that’s gripping Rodney’s attention. He had been wandering around, looking for something to distract him, when he just couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. He has no idea where Sheppard came from or how he came to be sitting there. 

“We live on the ocean, but we never see the fish,” Rodney finishes, turning his head to look at Sheppard’s profile. What a strange man, oddly beautiful in the weird half-light that’s down here, nothing fully powered up. He looks tired, to Rodney, but he’s almost smiling right now. He must feel Rodney’s gaze, his head does a slow, wobbly tilt-and-bob. Some sort of agreement. “Do you think Ford would’ve come to Ripley’s with me?”

“Sure,” Sheppard says, his mouth stretching more, smile widening and filling, his eyes crinkling up. 

“I don’t know if they still have the same displays,” Rodney says. 

“Tell you, what, if we ever end up back on Earth, I’ll let you drag me along to see,” Sheppard says. 

Rodney likes the sound of that. He slaps his hands against his knees and pushes up, getting back to his feet. Sheppard hooks a hand under his arm and helps, then steadies him, hands strong and steady. Rodney heads off in the direction he was going pre-panic and Sheppard falls into step. 

“What are you doing?” Rodney asks. Sheppard shrugs. “Where are you going?”

“Thought I might go see what they’ve got for lunch,” Sheppard says. 

“You’re going the wrong way for that,” Rodney says. 

“Yep,” Sheppard says, faux-pouting. He’s amused, waiting on Rodney, purposefully easy and relaxed. Rodney can feel the tension coiled in him, hidden through long-practice. “C’mon, you need sugar after that.”

‘That’ being screaming until he’s hoarse. Rodney flushes. They carry on in the wrong direction, meandering companionably. Sheppard passes him a bar of cheap Hershey’s chocolate and Rodney opens his mouth to complain about the quality, but Sheppard gives him a look, and fair enough; if he won’t go to the mess, he’ll have to eat whatever Sheppard has in his pockets. He eats it and Sheppard passes him a water bottle after. They walk for ten minutes and find nothing particularly interesting. When they reach a transporter they step in by mutual, silent decision, and head for lunch. 

Later on, Rodney goes out onto the pier and looks into the water, seeing if he can spot anything. It’s less like Ripley’s and more like being dragged to the beach and told to look at empty rock pools with nothing in them. He shrugs it off and moves on, trying not to panic in empty dark hallways. It’s odd, but he’s been in Pegasus long enough now that most of his panic attacks just roll off him, they barely effect his focus even. He works in the labs and ignores the shortness of breath and heart beating too wildly and the stomach aches and sweating. Nothing new. Sheppard brings him coffee, leans on things, suggests he drink some water once in a while instead of just coffee, hangs about being annoying. 

“So, aquariums huh?” he says, during his pre-flight before they set off after some readings Rodney wants to chase. 

“Is this a planet? Aquariums?” Teyla asks. 

John tries to explain aquariums to Teyla and Rodney tunes them out. John takes them through the gate while explaining, Ronon interrupts to tell them he had aquariums on Seteda but it turns out he means something different and then there’s a whole Thing, John ends up owing Ronon a whole tray of brownies. Rodney doesn’t actually tune them out. He can’t help watching John, the animation in him while he bickers with Ronon, the warmth of his grin when he glances Rodney’s way. Rodney’s annoyed with himself. He likes Sheppard, he’s good company and he’s friendly and he’s funny and he’s, well, actually he’s lovely. 

“Are we there yet?” Rodney snaps. 

“Sure,” Sheppard says, half-laughing; they're still in flight. “Take a step out the back hatch, Rodney, take a look.”

“Very funny. Just get us close,” Rodney says. 

He doesn’t, he parks miles away and Rodney is in a pissy mood and it's a long walk. Sheppard’s so pleased with the ‘MALP on a stick’, though, and Rodney tries to be pissy about that but he’s pleased (horrible), and he likes the way John looks at him over it and the thrill of ‘inventing’ it and he finds himself showing off and then they lose Sheppard. 

“I’m sorry,” Rodney says, afterwards, walking back trying to stay in step with John. They’re walking in the middle of their little rescue party, John must be purposefully keeping just behind Rodney for it to be so constant. Just three inches behind and to the right, it’s very annoying. “I should take the ZPM anyway.”

“They’re still around,” John says, walking silently along behind. 

“Might be worth it for a ZPM, though,” Rodney says. The air goes starchy and there’s a sizzle, and then a sharp crack of thunder. 

"Rodney!” Elizabeth shouts, from behind. 

Rodney just shrugs; John’s walking beside him, now, and he’s almost smiling. They head out onto the pier, back on the city, and they sit with their feet dangling. Rodney complains about his lack of ZPM and makes a case for why it’s a pointless place anyway and complains some more and apologises and reminds Sheppard they don’t leave people behind a few times. The fourth time he does Sheppard’s so tense he looks about ready to snap. Rodney decides to poke the bear and says it a fifth time, resting his hand on Sheppard’s shoulder this time. 

“Yes, unless you were dead, I know,” John snarls, turning in a sharp movement, almost knocking Rodney off into the water. Rodney looks up into Sheppard’s blank face, heart beating wildly. “I assumed you were dead, or you’d have been there. Six. Months. McKay.”

“Oh,” Rodney says. Sheppard turns to look out at the ocean again. “We’re not dead. I came as fast as I could, I didn’t know how to get there any quicker, I needed a plan. Translation. Help. I’m not like you, I can’t just pull a solution out of my ass, and I don’t have a Rodney McKay to implement it. I’m just me.”

“They didn’t have the ocean there. No big rivers or lakes. I told them about thunder storms, but I didn’t know how to explain the ocean. They lived their entire lives out in that prison.”

“And yet you wouldn’t let me take the ZPM.”

“It’s their world, their galaxy. Can’t impose our idea of civilization on them, Rodney, or our concept of freedom. That’s called colonialism and is generally considered a Bad Thing,” Sheppard says. He sounds tired, and like he’s done this before. 

“Bullshit. If you see something that’s doing harm, you take steps to dismantle it,” Rodney says. “Jeannie says so.”

“These guys will never come face to face with an octopus, never know the thrill of going swimming and having a whale rise out of the sea right beside you.”

“Or ride a ferris wheel,” Rodney says. “I half expected you to have built one.”

Sheppard goes a soft pink colour, and mumbles something about a working model for Hedda. 

“I used to make octopuses and turtles for Jeannie, out of paper. I cut her sandwiches for school into turtle shapes, and she put octopus facts in my lunchbox,” Rodney says. “I don’t know if I mentioned, I was really smart. Like, beyond smart.”

“Might’ve come up once or twice,” Sheppard says. 

“I’m not done, you ass. I didn’t skip many grades,” Rodney says, watching Sheppard’s face, seeing if there’s any surprise. There’s not a lot. 

“You talk about girls,” Sheppard explains. “You dated your classmates. You can’t have been that much younger.”

“I skipped two grades, in the end. I was worried I’d end up leaving her on her own, she wasn’t happy with other kids, not until she was about ten. She’s autistic, no one ever noticed though,” Rodney says. “Except me, obviously.”

“Because you’re smart,” Sheppard says. 

“Yes. And because I spent more time with her than anyone else. Our parents were too busy fighting at that point. Wasn’t till later our Dad realised we were both geniuses and took an interested, got me into college early and Jeannie into extra classes. He liked working with us,” Rodney says. “Wanted us to work together, it was the only time I felt like we were a family.”

“All because of the octopuses,” Sheppard says, flopping back onto the pier. 

Rodney realises they’re both teetering on the edge of tipsy, falling into ‘drunk’. He wants to ramble for hours, tell John about going back to the aquarium with Jeannie when they were stuck on a problem, working on her thesis and a joint paper and some personal research while he taught and got his second PhD. Wants to tell John about Jeannie getting pregnant and telling him at Ripley’s sitting on a bench among all the kids crying because she was scared. To tell him about her being worried to tell Kaleb until really, really late. 

“The night before she went into labour kind of late,” Rodney says, and realises he’s been talking out loud the whole time. “I looked after Madison, at first. Once she was old enough to be away from Jeannie, they’d come over and I’d do my marking and look after the baby while Jeannie went to the library. We would trade off walking her to sleep, working out a problem, bouncing ideas around.”

“And then you pissed her right off,” John says. 

“And then she told me she was quitting and moving to Toronto, actually,” Rodney corrects. “With Kaleb, who was taking a year out to look after Madison. The work was important, our research was important. She said none of it mattered. I gave up… I was a kid, and I took care of her and slowed my own progress, and then she _ had _a kid and I took on less work and adjusted my schedule and did more teaching, which I hate, and it’s not like her PhD work benefitted me, I helped her out because I thought…”

“Oh,” John says, blinking up at him. 

John lies there, tucking two fingers into Rodney’s pocket, head lolling to look at Rodney. It makes something loosen in Rodney’s chest, something knotted up so tight unwinding and letting him breathe a little easier. He’d been worried that years might have passed. He doesn’t plan on telling John how lucky they were, how it could easily have been years, decades even, before they found a way to get him out. 

He finds himself thinking about Jeannie again when he gets trapped at the bottom of the ‘lantean ocean, no hope of escape. It’s Sam who he hallucinates, but it’s Jeannie he thinks of. It’s because of John Sheppard. He sees Sam, and she’s fully clothed and acting like his friend instead of his sexual fantasy, but it’s John who’s on his mind. John lost in time, thinking they’re all dead, and Rodney _ is _dead now. Sam talks him through everything, but he’s determined not to do that to John Sheppard. Which is absurd, really, but it suddenly clicks for him that maybe, for Jeannie, giving up physics wasn’t the same as giving up herself. For him, he feels like it’s his identity, like it’s all he had. It got him a family, it got him love, it sustained him. He built his life around it because what else was he going to do? 

“What else could I have done?” he asks Sam. 

“You did fine,” Sam says. 

“I would have raised her myself, but I didn’t have the skills or resources. I wanted to buy her things and make her safe and make sure she wasn’t getting hurt, but I couldn’t. All I could do was try and understand a world that sucked so freakin’ much!” Rodney yells in frustration and throws something. The whale roars over the tiny jumper again, huge and terrifying. “And Colonel John _ bloody _ Sheppard, you are so wrong! Coming face to face with your mortality and a god _ damned _giant sea creature is not an important life experience! I could go my whole life without this, this is your fault! Remind your Ancient buddies I never took their precious ZPM!”

After that, his mind wanders. Sam takes off her top and Rodney feels nothing but numb, cold, terrified. He’s bleeding, he’s so cold. He’s so _ so _cold. He thinks about Sheppard climbing up and up through the city, launching one of his kites with Rodney’s name among the little scraps of paper to get torn away by the wind. After losing Ford again, after Rodney’s panic attacks, he found one of John’s painstaking creations, busted up beyond repair, torn and ragged and the struts shattered and snapped, Ford’s paper still tied on. He wonders what it would be like to soar like a kite, way, way up out of the water, tethered by John. 

“I slammed that one into the side of the city, though, that would be less fun,” John says. 

Rodney’s still not sure he’s real. He’s not sure if he’s being threatened or not. John’s crouched, tucking a blanket gently around Rodney, probing the wound on his temple. 

“Colonel,” Radek says, from the front of the jumper. “Oh! Oh, that is big.”

“Yeah,” John says, pressing gauze to Rodney’s head. “You’re ok. Just hold this, stay warm. I’m gonna take us home.”

“To fly the kite,” Rodney says. 

“Nah, buddy. Not today,” John says, breath wavering just a touch. “Not today. Press, don’t just- Radek, come hold this. Don’t let him bleed, and don’t let him wander off.”

“Wander off where? And who will watch for - oh wow,” Radek says. 

“Just get over here,” John snaps. 

Radek isn’t as warm as John, or as gentle, but he is nice. He mutters in Czech about whales and Rodney watches, vision blurry, John’s shoulders and head visible. He’s so calm and it’s so soothing to watch, nice to see Sam coming with them, swimming around them. 

“Holy crap,” John whispers, when Sam comes up real close to the front screen. It’s like being in the aquarium again. “Like the wrong side of an aquarium tank, why’s he so fascinated by us? I think it’s the instruments.”

Sheppard starts fiddling with things and Rodney’s sure they’re going to die; that’s navigation he just turned off. They’re so deep in the ocean it’s impossible to tell up from down, or left from right. 

“Hang on,” Sheppard calls cheerfully back to them. “That’s literally, Dr Z!”

Radek grips Rodney and the bench and yells as the jumper tips almost vertical, spinning idly upwards in a lazy corkscrew. It’s like a dance, Sam still with them, roaring. They burst out of the water and rise, upside down, John laughing and sending them a wholly unapologetic ‘oops!’ as they reorientate themself and cruise just above the ocean. 

“Atlantis, this is your aquarium display phoning home,” John says. 

  
  


A distorted and confused crackle comes over the radio and Rodney winces, head pounding. Home sounds good. He wants home. Carson and something to take the pain, dry clothes, warmth. Maybe John will come to the infirmary with him. He falls asleep thinking about that. 

* * *

“You,” Rodney says, narrowing his eyes and squinting, tugging a tiny piece of ship out of John’s shoulder with tweezers, “are _ such, _” he continues, going for the next shred of skin, “a LOSER!”

“Ow!” John complains, trying to bat Rodney away. 

“Sit still or I’ll give you back to Marie,” Rodney says, yanking the next bit of F302 harder than necessary. 

“Stop it, I’ll crash,” John whines. 

“Who’s even tied to that one?” Rodney snaps, hauling yet another shard out of John’s skin. “Oh, jesus. How did we miss this for so long? You’re such a god damned loser!”

“Sorry,” John says, sharp and sarcastic, tugging the string of his kite twice to make it flutter. This one is shaped like a butterfly. “I had other things on my mind, and no spare clothes so I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I got most of it!”

“So you paid enough attention to make a mess of some of it,” Rodney says, reaching for his cloth and water, washing away old and new blood. John’s whole shoulder and bicep is shredded. Rodney finds another bigger bit and eases it out with a sigh. “Any sign of Sam?”

“Nope,” John says. 

“Are you even keeping watch?”

“Yeah, saw Cthullu a minute ago,” John says. “Nessie’s out there, too. No sign of Sam.”

“Uh huh,” Rodney says, sighing again as he finds another piece. “Jesus _ christ. _”

“Yeah yeah,” John says. “Are you nearly done?”

“Yes, but I’m giving you back to Marie later so she can scan and be sure. This is stupid,” Rodney says. 

“I just spent forever on a tiny ship full of stinky marines and _ you _, I want some air,” John says, yanking the kite again so it loops and dives. 

“Who’s on this one?” Rodney asks, pulling out the last little pieces he can find and sitting back, relaxing. They’re out above the infirmary a few floors, not as high as John would like but high enough to fly the latest contraption John’s made. High enough to look out at the ocean. “You think there’s other things in there?”

“Probably. We haven’t had much luck finding fish for eating, though,” John says, shrugging. “Ow. You never know.”

They’re both wearing the scrubs the infirmary dresses patients in, all velcro and easy openings. Rodney’s quite comfy, John hates them. He’s right about being outside, though. It is good to have fresh air. Marie had obviously agreed, she’d sent pretty much everyone away and let John go too even with half an F302 embedded in him. 

“Such a looser,” Rodney mutters. 

“I know, I know,” John says. “I didn’t realise it was bad, Rodney, I got out what I could, slapped on a bandage and forgot about it. I was focussed on trying to keep us all fed and with enough water to survive the journey, and, oh _ yeah _ the _ wraith _.”

“You think the colony will work?” Rodney asks, cracking open one of the bottles of water Marie sent them with (as well at the bowl of water to wash the blood off John’s god damned shoulder). “A damned stupid loser.”

“I _ get _it, McKay, give it a rest. It’s not a colony, it’s a prison, and I don’t suppose it’ll be a joy. I don’t know what else to do. We'll rehabilitate them, I guess,” John says. “But, eh, I’ve read Frankenstein. Not holding out much hope.”

“Uh huh,” Rodney says. He’s staring at the ocean to avoid staring at John’s shoulder, open to the air because Marie forgot to send them with a bandage. As he watches, something big breaks the surface, miles and miles out. “There! Look!”

“That wasn’t a whale,” John says, leaning back. “Ow. Bugger,” he sits forwards again and looks away from his kite. “Oh! Ok, maybe a whale. No, no, I was right, look.”

He is right, it’s not quite so far away and it’s some sort of bird, diving. 

“Diving for fish,” Rodney says. 

“Herbivore,” John says. 

“I’ll take that bet,” Rodney says. 

He can’t be bothered to go looking in the data base right this second, though. He flops back and watches John’s kite, instead. They did lose people on this one, but there aren’t any scraps of paper on the ribbons today. 

“I made this one before,” John says. Right, he makes them new for the scraps, each time. It’s an act of penance or something. Or maybe just trying to find peace. Rodney thinks about aquariums and his math and his orange fleece. 

“It’s kinda cold,” Rodney says. “I like the kite.”

John scratches his nose, scrunches up his face, glares a bit at the horizon, then admits he made it after he got back from his enforced prison time in the land of the Lotus Eaters, and scratches out something rasping about it being Rodney’s one. At least, the syllables he manages to grunt out might add up to that. Rodney laughs, wanting to kiss him, used to this wanting, yearning, not reaching out because that’s life. He smiles up at his kite. 

“There he is,” John says, voice calm and even, hand around Rodney’s bicep to help him sit up. “There’s your whale.”

They sit and watch the great body breach, Rodney’s thoughts spinning out and out in Fibonacci spirals, breathing slowing deeper and deeper with each swoop of the kite, each sight of the whale, each shift of John’s body. They’re bloody, exhausted, and have a bunch of half-wraith to deal with. But this moment is theirs, and it’s peaceful, and Rodney just breathes. 


End file.
